


fall asleep until it’s only you and me

by sunburst_city



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Dreams, Dreamsharing, F/M, Prophetic Dreams, sort of, sort of again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunburst_city/pseuds/sunburst_city
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something frighteningly tangible about all her dreams involving Percy Jackson. 6 instances Annabeth dreams of Percy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fall asleep until it’s only you and me

_i._

The first time she dreams about Percy, she’s thirteen and fresh out of her first quest.

In her dream, the two of them are at the Arena at Camp, riding a two-man chariot being pulled by a pair of powerful horses. Next to them, a couple of who she assumes to be Apollo kids are on their own chariot, and Annabeth spots two kids from the Hephaestus cabin on another two-man chariot pulled by automatons.

Before Annabeth can ponder how on earth they managed to convince Chiron to do _chariot races,_ the driver of the Apollo chariot yells, “You’re mine!”

Irritated, Annabeth takes a javelin and throws it at the chariot, sending them out of comission. She has no time to celebrate her win, because the Hephaestus chariot has caught up, and Beckendorf has mounted it onto theirs with heavy-duty cables.

The next few seconds are a blur as she and Percy seamlessly switch places, allowing her to take the reins and him to deal with their opponents. She yells at Percy to get rid of the Greek fire Beckendorf leaves them, and in a downright beautiful move, Percy sends it careening back to the Hephaestus chariot, taking out Clarisse and her brother Mark in the process as well.

Just as she and Percy pass the finish line, she wakes up, and she’s in her room at her dad’s house in Virginia.

It’s kind of weird to dream about someone other than Luke or Thalia, but she thinks nothing of it. After all, she sees nothing strange about her and Percy kicking butt.

_ii._

Her first clue that this is a dream is the fact that Percy is taller than her.

Her Percy - that is, the fourteen-year-old version she knows - is lanky, and he’s only starting to be able to level her stare without tilting his head up. _This_ Percy towers over her by a good three inches and is probably a year or two older. His hair is still the same inky mess, but now it compliments his angular jaw, high cheekbones, and bright green eyes. And if the thin shirt is anything to go on, this Percy has the well-defined muscles of a swordsman or a swimmer. And his jeans fit the lower half of his body very well, if she could say so herself.

(Come on. She’s a teenage girl, and her normally-cute best friend has just suddenly turned ridiculously good-looking. Give her a break.)

Her second clue is Percy has his hand resting intimately on the small of her back as they walk towards her cabin.

Percy throws his head back and laughs at a dry remark she doesn’t remember saying, and she can’t tell if the bright, vivid colors around her are due to this being a dream or due to the warmth of Percy’s laughter settling in the pit of her stomach.

Once they reach the porch of the Athena Cabin, he bends down (oh, gods, he has to bend down to look at her now) and captures her lips in a slow, languid kiss that has her toes curling.

“Goodnight, Wise Girl.” She barely hears him breathe into her ear before she wakes up in her cabin.

It takes her a minute to recollect her thoughts; but once she does, she can only come to one conclusion, the same conclusion she’s been denying ever since she saw him take the weight of the sky in Mount Tam last December.

Sweet Poseidon, she likes Percy Jackson.

_iii._

It’s evening and all of her siblings are having dinner at the pavilion; but Annabeth is perched on her bed, looking over Plan Twenty-Three on Daedalus’ laptop.

The next thing she knows, she’s standing on the dock at the lake.

At first, she thinks a god – maybe her mom – has summoned her here, but then she notices that despite having her invisibility cap on her head, she is completely visible. So this isn’t happening in the real world, then. Annabeth takes in the rest of her surroundings, and once she recognizes the too-vivid colors, she groans.

Oh, great. Now she’s having _those_ dreams while she’s wide awake now, too.

Where is that Seaweed Brain, anyway?

Spotting the upturned canoe bobbing on the lake’s surface, she walks towards the edge of the dock and peers down at the water. There, a few feet down, Percy is floating and staring at the surface in confusion.

Annabeth has half the mind to just leave him there, especially after their explosive falling out earlier that day. In hindsight, maybe calling him out on his inability to address their relationship wasn’t the best approach, especially since he’s currently faced with a choice that can end up destroying the world.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily.” She muttered.

He blinks owlishly at her, and she can’t help but laugh at his expression. 

“You are such a Seaweed Brain sometimes,” She says, shaking her head. She kneels down on the dock and extends her arm. “Come on, take my hand.”

Through the water’s surface, she sees his eyes gain focus. He reaches up and grabs her hand. Electricity shoots up from his body to hers through their tightly clasped hands, sending tingles down her spine. She pulls him out of the water, and then—

Annabeth blinks, and she’s back in her cabin, staring at the screen of Daedalus’ laptop. She frowns, wondering about the reality of the last few moments she experienced. She can still feel the tingles from Percy’s hand, all converging at a point on the small of her back.

Weird.

_iv._

The Poseidon Cabin pretty much becomes their hang-out spot after the Second Titan War. It’s the only place they can get any semblance of privacy without other campers teasing them about their newfound relationship or eavesdropping on their conversation. It’s a little against the rules, yeah; but Percy’s entire existence is because of a broken oath, and Annabeth has proven time and again that she’s not at all shy about challenging the status quo of Camp.

So what if they almost always end up locking lips? 

She doesn’t think she will ever get used to the feeling of his lips on hers, even in the chastest of kisses. Even now, hanging out in his cabin after a tiring sparring session, Percy’s lips make her feel alive in a way she’s never felt before he came into the picture.

Unexpectedly, Percy playfully nips at her bottom lip and then swipes his tongue across it. She groans into his mouth as the kiss deepens, and before she can think otherwise, she swings her leg over both of his and straddles him, trapping him on the couch with his hips cradling her own. 

Whoa, okay. This isn’t how things usually go.

Percy’s hands start moving up and down her body, skimming her thighs, hips, and waist. She shivers as his lips move to her jaw and then to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses as he goes along. Meanwhile, one of her hands slips beneath his t-shirt and begins tracing the contours of his stomach, feeling his muscles ripple against her palm as he moves. Her other hand gets tangled in his hair.

After one particularly passionate kiss, Percy grips her thighs, and in one fluid motion, he lifts her up and walks toward his bed, bringing her along. He clumsily sets her down in the middle of his bunk before setting his body atop hers and returning his lips to hers once more. By then, her shirt is bunched halfway up her torso and Percy’s is completely off. He’s sliding his warm hands up and across her ribcage, thumbs dancing dangerously close to the fabric of her bra, and—

Oh gods, was that noise _her?_

Percy pulls away to look at her, and before Annabeth can feel properly embarrassed for the sound she just made, she spots his expression. He had that troublemaker smirk on, the one that has never been any good to her sanity. She gulps, and he takes that as a cue to place a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the flat plane of her lower stomach, just above the lip of her jean shorts. Annabeth gasps and her hips involuntarily buck—

And then she wakes up, her breathing heavy and her heart pounding hard against her chest.

A dream. But it had felt so real.

Then again, all her dreams about Percy so far have felt frighteningly so.

Annabeth sits up, tangling her fingers in her sleep-mussed hair in an effort to put herself back together or, at the very least, calm her thundering heartbeat.

They’ve only been dating for two weeks… gods, they’d just gotten past the awkward I-want-to-kiss-him/her-but-I-don’t-know-if-I-can phase of their relationship. And her brain deems it acceptable to dream about… _that?_ No, so not okay.

Aphrodite must be getting a serious kick from this. Annabeth’s cheeks heat up as she remembers her dream, remembers the way Percy’s muscles shifted under his skin beneath her palms and how good his teeth felt gently raking against her collarbone and—

She isn’t able to look him in the eye for three days afterwards.

_v._

Maybe it’s the strain she’s put on her body for the past weeks, but that night, she gets the strangest dream.

She doesn’t get why she’s running through a dense fog. This is unusual, even by her standards. She wonders if this really is a demigod dream, wonders if there is a point to all this running, because if she’s just going to end up tiring herself out with dreams, she might as well just wake up now and continue to work on the Argo II until sheer fatigue knocks her out cold.

And suddenly, he’s right there. _Percy_ isrunning right next to her and, gods, his image is so bright and vivid against the drab grey of the fog around them that she couldn’t have looked away even if she wanted to.

“Oh, thank the gods!” She cries out in relief, reaching out to him. “For months we couldn’t see you!”

Percy gets this awed sort of look on his face as he spots her. Tentatively, he holds his arm out towards her. They’re still running through the fog, but when his fingers brush hers, she’s never felt surer that this is real. It has to be.

“Are you real?” He asks, causing Annabeth to nearly stumble. Before she can answer, his image blurs. She reaches out at the same time he does, but this time, their fingers pass through each other’s. Panic grips her.

“Stay put! It’ll be easier for Tyson to find you! Stay where you are!” She manages to tell him before the fog disappears into darkness, bringing Percy with it. She trips, and then she’s falling down, down, down into the dark.

When she wakes up, she doesn’t know what to feel. On one hand, she’s glad he’s alright; but something about what Percy said is nagging at her. She frowns, recalling his exact words.

_Are you real?_

She bolts up as the realization hits her. He wouldn’t have asked her that if he didn’t recognize her. Which can only mean he knows who she is.

Percy Jackson _remembers_.

_vi._

When she opens her eyes, Annabeth immediately zeroes in on the too vivid colors of her vision. As a teenager, this might’ve made her groan. Now, though, the only reaction she has is to blink.

It’s been a while since she had one of these dreams.

Mind more alert now, she sits up and, well, takes inventory.

She is on her side of the bed in their apartment, wearing cotton shorts and one of Percy’s old Goode Swim Team shirts. On the other side of the bed is Percy with his limbs sprawled out in every direction, wearing nothing but boxers.

Nothing new there. This has been how she wakes up ever since Percy turned twenty-three two years ago and they moved in together.

Something stirs at the corner of her eye, catching her attention. She looks down, and her heart stops.

In between them is a small body, a little girl with vapid black curls and a streak of drool matching the one Percy has on his chin. That detail is definitely new.

The little girl’s eyes flutter open, and Annabeth sucks in a breath.

The little girl has the signature grey eyes of Athena.

"Go back to sleep, Mama.” She says, shifting in an attempt to find a better sleeping position.

“You heard our daughter, Annabeth,” Percy mumbles sleepily, pulling the little girl closer to him and blindly wiping away the drool on her chin. “Go back to sleep.”

As if choreographed, both Percy and the girl reach out and tug Annabeth down until she’s lying back on the bed. Before she can stop to think about it, Annabeth combs a hand through their daughter’s (gods, _their daughter’s)_ hair, pushing it behind the little girl’s ear. The girl sighs happily, curling closer to Annabeth. Annabeth settles into the matress and goes right back to sleep.

When she opens her eyes again, she sits up and looks at the space between her and Percy.

No little girl.

But then she thinks back to all her other dreams involving Percy Jackson, remembers how, in one way or another, they all really happened, be it presently or in the future. She smiles.

No little girl.

Not yet.


End file.
